Daring the Duke (7 page)

Sarah frowned. "You should add some curl to your hair, miss."

"ls that what your yanking is supposed to accomplish? lt will never curl properly. How many times will you try to force it?"

Sarah sniffed and quickly coiled Audrey's uncooperative hair into a semblance of style, pinning it to her head. She grabbed the pale blue gown and forced Audrey into it. lt was time to sit her maid down, maybe with her arm pinned behind her back, and have a little talk. The girl had been hired by Travers a week past, and her insolent attitude was wearing thin.

Only the manners' she learned from the tutor Flanagan had hired stopped her from teaching the girl a lesson now. "Sarah, go down and inform Mr.

Maddox that I will be with him presently."

As soon as Sarah's footsteps retreated, Audrey removed a floorboard, withdrew her specially made garters, and slipped them in place. She flipped one of her knives, testing its balance, and slipped it in the leather-and-lace sheath on her right leg. The hall clock chimed. She quickly encased the others while cursing the short sleeves of the dress. She grabbed her favorite hairpin and slipped it into the coil on the back of her head.

She checked her reflection in the cheval glass. She was ready.

Audrey stepped heavily on every loose riser on the way down the steps, causing irritating creaks. The noise annoyed Maddox to no end.

"Girl, get in here."

Someday. Someday one of her knives was going to slip from her hand.

She entered the study. "ls something wrong, Maddox?"

"Go back and change. I'll make your excuses. Travers won't like it. He won't like you going out at all." Maddox was standing behind the desk holding a letter opener. A note lay open on the desk.

She shrugged and moved forward. "Is that all you have a care for—what Travers likes?"

He glared at her and pulled the flat side of the letter opener across his palm. "Remember your task."

"I know my task." She picked up the split missive. "Travers will cope. At this juncture, he doesn’t have much choice in the matter."

"No, I ain’t gonna allow it. Being with the duke is too risky." Some of the accent he had worked so hard to extinguish came through. Very upset then. Audrey nearly shook her head in exasperation.

"You ain’t goin' with Chalmers."

She gave him a steely gaze and leaned forward. "Don’t think you can suddenly act like a real father, Maddox. It doesn’t work that way Besides, you’re the one who instigated this farce."

He assumed the pouty look that used to work so well on her mother and whined. "Now Audrey you know what needs to be done. Stop trying to befriend the duke."

"I am not trying to befriend the damn duke. How many times do I have to repeat that statement? What part of it do you not understand?"

His eyes narrowed. "Don’t sass me, girl. I’m still stronger and larger. It’s not too late to take a strip

off you." He unconsciously fingered his right forearm. The scar was a lasting reminder of the final time he had ever tried to whip her. Her thirteenth birthday the day she had taken control of her life.

Well, to a certain extent. She wasn’t exactly living a free-and-clear existence at the moment.

There was a knock at the front door.

She lifted the message from Travers and tossed it in the fire grate. In his stupor, Maddox would have probably left it lying around for one and all to read.

"You’re not going. I’ll tell him so right now. "

Audrey didn’t respond; she waited several minutes, then followed him into the hall.

Chalmers was leaning nonchalantly against the door, but he straightened and smiled when she entered. Maddox looked desolate. In contrast to Chalmers’s healthy, lightly tanned complexion and devastating smile, Maddox was sullen, his face blotchy and red.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she said.

Chalmers stepped forward and took her hand. "Miss Kendrick, how lovely to see you."

Maddox halted Audrey’s progress by grabbing her arm. “Your Grace, I cannot allow Audrey to travel without a chaperone, and I’m afraid I’m too ill to attend."

"Not a problem, Maddox. The Marchioness of Angelford is accompanying us. She is waiting in the carriage."

An unholy spark lit Maddox’s eyes, but Chalmers brushed further conversation aside as he smoothly freed Audrey from Maddox’s grasp and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "Good evening, Maddox. I hope your health improves."

Although the mention of their female companion produced a mixed reaction in her, Audrey smiled at Maddox’s suppressed rage at being outwitted. They stepped out the door, down the walk, and to the carriage.

The carriage that held Lady Angelford.

Audrey held no love for the ton, but did Chalmers truly find it amusing to parade his mistress around town? Wasn’t the rule that you produced an heir and a spare before taking lovers? The Angelfords had barely been wed a year, and she was already traipsing around with someone other than her husband?

With Chalmers's good looks and charm, he probably had a trail of women scattered throughout England. One in every shire. Each waiting with open arms for him to return. Audrey felt the irrational anger surge through her.

He could take his seductions and play false with someone else. She had no intention of aiding him in his illicit liaison with his best friend's wife!

"l feel a megrim coming on, Your Grace. Perhaps your driver could drop you and the marchioness off at the theater, then return with me?"

"No." The blasé way he uttered it set her teeth on edge.

"In that case, I refuse to enter the carriage."

"Why?"

"Listen here, Chalmers, I’m not going to act as a screen for you and your tart."

He gave a short burst of laughter before hiding it behind a cough. "I’m sure James would be quite displeased to hear his wife referred to as my tart."

He opened the carriage door, and she peered inside. The interior was empty

"I thought you said-"

"l lied. Shall we go?" There was a trace of laughter in his voice. Once again she was surprised by

this unpredictable man

.

She narrowed her eyes but was secretly relieved. Relieved she didn’t have to face the charming woman from whom she had stolen. Relieved that she wouldn’t have to be an accomplice in an illicit relationship.

Her relief was short-lived. If Chalmers hadn't invited her as a screen, why had he invited her? Her pent-up nerves and righteous indignation changed into awareness and anticipation.

Stephen was awaiting her answer. She nodded, and he handed her up and inside. Settling himself across from her, she was struck by how different he looked from a year ago when they had been together in a closed carriage. Alive and healthy now, versus pale, unconscious, and near death.

Stephen smiled. "Guess it is just you and me."

Her skin tingled. She was alone with him in a dark and luxurious ducal carriage. Alone. And this time he was alert and dangerous.

"And by the way, Calliope has never been my mistress."

Audrey was taken aback by the comment. "Maybe not now, but she lived in your house. I saw her with you, even disguised as she was."

"You saw me with Calliope? You were watching me? How delightful."

He winked and she almost kicked him. "In any case, it was an act."

"Why would someone act as a courtesan?"

He shook his head and smiled. "You’ll have to ask her. She may choose to tell you. I think she likes

you."

"Uh, right." She was just glad that Calliope wasn’t his mistress now.

Why did she care? That way led to a bad train of thought. In fact, best to not think of-Chalmers switched sides so that he was seated next to her.

"What are you doing?" She screeched.

"I hate riding backward, don’t you?"

"No. Here, let me ride on the other side."

He rested his legs up on the other seat and crossed his ankles. "No room."

He gave her a lazy grin and tilted his head slightly toward her.

A tingle of awareness coursed through her when he looked at her like that. It was as if she was the only woman in the world, and it was hard to think of much else. The faint moonlight highlighted his blond hair and wicked features. Why had he really sought her out? It wasn’t to pay court.

That thought was as much a farce as the one they were about to see on the stage.

In her experience all men were duplicitous; Stephen Chalmers was just craftier at hiding it.

He touched her hand. "Your skin is cold." He took her hands between his large warm ones, rubbing the tops with his thumbs.

Craftier at hiding behind ingratiating smiles and tingling caresses. And what tingling caresses they were. His hands lingered too long on her body, fingers stroking the underside of her arm and skimming her sensitive wrists. His thighs kept contact with hers.

It was both a relief and a disappointment when the carriage slowed to a stop.

Stephen made no move to rise. Their eyes met, and unexpected warmth surged through her. "Why did you agree to come to the theater tonight?"

"Pure folly."

He laughed deeply, and the carriage door opened. He exited and raised his arm to help her down. "Good. The title of the afterpiece has folly in it.

Must be strange good fortune. Perhaps tomorrow night we might attend Covent Garden and see what title to label the evening."

She took his hand and stepped onto the street. "I’m not sure that is such a good idea, Chalmers."

His hand squeezed hers and tugged her forward. "Nor am l."

She tucked her hand into his arm as they made their way toward the theater entrance.

"No, l retract that statement. I think it is an excellent idea."

She snorted. "Of course you would."

"Where is your sense of adventure, Audrey?"

She turned to him, a biting reply forming, when she saw the glint of metal. Audrey shoved Stephen forward, following him to the pavement and landing roughly on top of him. A shot echoed through the night, and the crowd began screaming.

Pandemonium erupted. Ladies screamed and ran for shelter. Two carriages careened, knocking over a flower stall. The horses reared, spooked by the noise. In one fluid motion Stephen rolled them out of harm’s way and tugged Audrey to her feet.

"Come."

There was general chaos as people scattered in all directions, but Audrey saw the burly figures steadily working their way toward them. Stephen must have seen them too because he pushed her to the side of the building, blocking and protecting her.

Stephen already had a pistol in hand and was peering around the side of the building. People continued running down the street. Screams echoed from scared patrons and street dwellers alike. Another shot rang out and wood splintered above them as Stephen wrenched his head back.

A determined look on his face, he grabbed her hand and sprinted toward the nearest side street. She kept pace with him but cursed her soft slippers all the same.

There was no need for him to keep holding her hand, but she didn’t fight it, allowing him to keep the physical contact. His warm hand felt good.

She hiked her skirt with her free hand as she ran, pinned the dress layers with her arm, and reached under to grab the nearest knife. Stephen looked back and grinned.

He pulled her into a darkened doorway halfway down one street and tried the knob. It was locked. He fiddled with the latch for a few seconds before it clicked open. Not bad. The man would make a decent thief. He pulled her inside and locked the door.

Her immediate panic in the darkened room was stilled by logic. The room was small but not overly cramped, and there was a small window overlooking the street. Stephen drew back the shade slightly. She peered over his shoulder, watching a familiar face creep past the window. What the hell was he doing here? And had he seen her in the street?

"You know who they are." It was a statement, not a question.

She hesitated only a second before whispering, "Some of them."

He leaned against the wall of the small room. "Which one of us are they after?"

"Isn’t everyone after you?"

"Only your cronies. All my people are chasing you."

She shrugged although her body was tense. "I’m not the one with people shooting at me."

"No, but it could be arranged."

"I’ll keep that in mind, Your Graciousness."

The sound of the knob being jerked caused Stephen to pull back against the wall and aim the pistol toward the door.

"Ye see anything?" a deep voice yelled down the alley.

"Nah, damn blighters got away," said the voice on the other side of the door.

"Who was the girl?"

"Some fancy tart. Let's go. Damn cold tonight, and I’m not freezing me stones off looking in the dark. We’ll finish this another night."

Audrey smirked. Fancy tart, was she? Good to know her identity wasn’t totally exposed.

Footsteps echoed down the alley and back to the main streets. Stephen and Audrey maintained their silence for a few minutes in case the men returned.

Stephen leaned a shoulder against the door. "Fancy tart? So you’re not working with them?"

She shrugged. "lf I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead." Not that she had ever killed anyone, but he didn’t need to know that detail.

He smiled. "You’re no longer working for Flanagan?"

"What do you know about Flanagan?" Her voice had more bite to it than she had intended, but he looked amused.